


long way down.

by canniballistics



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Ending, Drowning, Flashbacks, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 07:30:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1679900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canniballistics/pseuds/canniballistics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>hypothetical situation: what might have happened if Maria Hill and what's left of SHIELD found Steve and Bucky right as they came out of the river, instead of what happened in the movie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	long way down.

**Author's Note:**

> holy crap, it's something not silly.

He wasn't too clear on the details. He knew he hadn't been completely unconscious when he'd hit the water, but everything was fuzzy from that point on, until it eventually faded into black. 

All told, it took Steve a little over two weeks to come out of it. Surprising, he’d been told, both because no one expected Captain America to be beaten into a coma, and because a regular man likely would have been under for a _lot_ longer, if not outright dead. He didn’t know if it was a blessing that he wasn’t. 

  
  
  
_He can feel an impact, and then the sensation of falling again. Falling and floating and existing and nothing, all tangled into one indescribable lightness despite the pain he should have been in. He doesn’t fight. It’s only time; in fact, he’s long overdue. He should have died seventy years ago, when he crashed Schmidt's plane into the Arctic. That he's finally paying up a bill he'd been handed long ago didn't bother him. Not when everyone else important to him is gone, too._   
  
  


It started about a day after he first woke up. The nurses and doctors knew nothing, of course; they were simply taking care of another patient. But when Natasha came to see him, when Maria and Sam came in, and he asked about Bucky, no one had an answer for him. Sam was upfront and honest about it; there wasn't an ounce of deception when he said he didn't know. Natasha and Maria were more obvious, though, in their calm denials: Maria's cold indifference and Natasha's skillful deflections raised red flags almost immediately. If he were anyone else, he might have actually believed them when they said they had no information. 

If he didn't know them, he might have actually bought it. 

Therein laid the problem, though; he _did_ know them, knew the way they acted and how they looked when they were hiding something. Natasha more than Maria, but he still had an inkling as to the latter. If he hadn't been confined to his hospital bed, he might have been in a position to find out for himself instead of waiting for them to tell him.

  
  
  
_He knows he’s drowning, more than anything. The inability to fight, the distinct feeling of_ not wanting to. _Not anymore, not with Peggy slowly disappearing before his eyes and Bucky lost to him. And now that HYDRA's been taken out (again), what more is there for him to do?_

_It's for those reasons that he doesn't fight, doesn't care to. So when he feels a pull at one of his shoulder straps, feels himself being dragged along, he assumes he's snagged on a piece of Insight debris. The further into the Potomac, the better. Let Captain America vanish into the annals of history, like he should have seventy years ago._

_So it strikes him as strange when he stops floating, recognizes the incomprehensible heaviness of_ being.  
  
  


He couldn't get Natasha to talk. Maria worked directly with Fury and wasn't exactly a friend, not like Natasha was, so he knew right out that there wasn't going to be a way for him to get her to answer his questions. There were no cracks in her armor, no way for him to attempt to coax the information out of her. Natasha was different, though. The superspy to end all superspies, but when it was the first thing he asked upon seeing her, he could see a flash of _something_ in her eyes. Reluctance, regret. There was something she wasn't telling him, and they both knew it. Despite that, she still refused give it up. It planted a little seed of fear in him, wriggling in his gut and worrying him. 

Something was wrong. 

It took another week before something changed. Sam had been to see him almost every day, bringing him magazines and smuggled meals, new music and movies to watch. (Steve could now say that he'd watched Star Wars and some of Star Trek, as well as Raiders of the Lost Ark and Jurassic Park. His favorite was Indiana Jones.) He could tell as soon as Sam set foot in the room, from the way he carried himself to the way he sat down in the bedside chair, that something was wrong. There was none of his usual energy, a forced smile and fake lightness to his voice. It worried Steve, more than anything else, when Sam had trouble meeting his eyes. 

"Sam." His voice was quiet, but firm. "What's up?"

It took Sam a second before he dropped the act, fingers rubbing at his mouth before finally looking up at him. "Steve. I got something to tell you. But you have to promise me something, okay?"

He thought he knew what was coming before Sam could say it, but Steve sat up anyway, took a breath before asking, "What is it?" 

"Promise you're not gonna do anything stupid once I do."

  
  
  
_He isn't floating anymore, and he doesn't know why. His body feels heavy, broken, useless. The supersoldier serum should be trying its hardest to heal him, but he isn’t sure he wants it to. There's a thud, numb nerve endings responding weakly to hitting something solid. It turns out to be the jolt his body needs to jumpstart into automatic, lungs trying to expel the water that's flooded them and heart doing its best to return to a steady beat._

_Somewhere deep in his subconscious, the part of him that almost knows what's going on, he can feel a presence next to him. Someone is there. But his lungs aren't working right, unable to pull in enough air, and that small part of him starts to fade even as that presence remains. There's a shout, something meant to be words, unintelligible and watery as they get quieter and farther away, and then one sharp crack, two. A splash, that presence gone. And then finally, he disappears too._   
  
  


Sam sat in silence, watching him without a word. Steve's gaze wandered, from Sam's face to the other side of the room, down to his hands and where they clenched into the blankets tucked around him. He didn't say anything, just studied the way his knuckles turned white, ignored the steady increase in his heart monitor's beeping. 

It took him nearly ten minutes to respond, swallowing hard. 

"Have you found a body?"

"Not yet. Potomac's a big river, Steve. But they're pretty sure-"

"Then he could still be out there."

" _Steve_. C'mon, man." Sam's voice was quiet, tense. "They told me they got in two solid shots, at less than ten feet away, before he went into the water. Look - he was your best friend, and you feel like there was nothing you could do for him. That you failed him. I get that, trust me, I do. But it’s been a month since then, and he was seriously wounded after almost killing _you_. It might be time to let go and accept it."

"I won't." Steve looked up at him, ignoring the fact that his own stubbornness was starting to feel like desperation. "Until I see a body, I refuse to believe he's dead. I already made that mistake once. I'm not going to make it again."

Sam just sighed, leaning back in his chair. "All right," he said after a minute. "What are you gonna do?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Steve's expression didn't change. "I'm going to find him. He saved my life, Sam. He could’ve killed me, but he didn’t. He saved me instead. I can't just leave him out there." A lump caught in his throat, and he shook his head, taking a deep breath. "Even if it means bringing home a body to bury. He deserves that much, at least."

Sam didn’t say anything for a few minutes, watching him in silence before shaking his head. "Have it your way. You're getting discharged tomorrow; we'll start the day after."

The readiness to follow him on what promised to be an impossible mission surprised him. “Are you sure you want to come with me?”

A quiet chuckle, and Sam’s smile was both a relief and difficult to see. “‘Course I am. It’s not gonna be easy, and you’ve been knocked on your ass for a few weeks. Figure you’ll need a friend along the way.”

The words rang truer than Steve would have liked. It wasn’t going to be easy, but it was something he needed to do. Not for himself, but for Bucky. To bring him back, give him the hero’s treatment that he deserved. “Then get whatever information you can from Natasha. I’m leaving today.” A pause, and he gave him a small smile. “You’re a good friend, Sam. You know that?”

“Yeah, I know.” A little grin before joking, “Besides, who doesn’t want to be able to say that Captain America owes ‘em one?” Sam stood, reaching out to grip Steve’s shoulder, a comforting gesture (that reminded him too much of Bucky). “I’ll go see what I can find out. Meet me downstairs in thirty.”

Once he was gone, Steve finally uncurled his hands from the blankets and began unhooking himself from the few machines left in the room. He knew two things for certain: one, that he was going to find Bucky. Dead or alive, he was going to find him. And two, that he was going to take down what remained of HYDRA. For good this time. He only hoped that it wasn’t too late for his friend.


End file.
